


come together, right now (over me)

by violentdarlings



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, OT6, Orgy, Team Dynamics, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentdarlings/pseuds/violentdarlings
Summary: Six in the bed...





	come together, right now (over me)

It’s different.

Bruce knows that Clark and Lois have their thing, and he’d both kill and die to protect their exquisite little love, but all the same, _this_. This sinks into his bones like a hook beneath his sternum, drawing him back to them even when he’d rather hide in his cave because the ecstatic loveliness of them makes him _shake_.

And here he is and here they are, six of the most unlikely comrades, and the messy, unkempt knot that five of them make in bed.

Arthur does everything with brutal intensity, and fucking is no different. He’s bare down to his ink and his skin, his cock hard and ready as he talks Barry through giving his first blowjob. “Good,” he’s saying, as the boy gasps around the thick of his cock, hands tangled in Barry’s inky hair, “good, good boy,” trading messy kisses with Diana, so wild with abandon that occasionally they do not kiss but merely gasp into one another’s mouth, the sweetest thing Bruce has seen in decades.

Bruce can barely tear his eyes away from Barry and Arthur, or from Diana, her head thrown back and her eyes closed in rapture, occasionally moaning, “Kal-El,” while Clark’s face is buried between her thighs. Clark makes an ecstatic noise every time she does, like some ancestral beat of blood in him thrills to the sound of his Kryptonian name. Bruce has idly imagined Diana naked before, in the same way he considers the colonisation or Mars or the Mona Lisa – with distant, scientific curiosity, like the examination of a distant star. But the little things catch his notice: Clark’s hand in the small of Barry’s back, a gentle reassurance, or the way the younger man will occasionally eye Diana’s magnificent breasts with an appreciative glint in his perpetually amused eyes, Clark grinding against the bed.

As for Bruce himself, he is still in his trousers, palming himself through the layers – Diana and Arthur had stripped off readily enough, their Amazon and Atlantean blood seeming to lend a certain lack of reticence towards nudity. Barry is down to his boxers and Clark is bare, as unfazed as Diana and Arthur at taking off his clothes.

It’s not an ideal fit. For a start, Barry’s not sure he wants to be touched sexually, and Diana has a thing about being penetrated, but all the same they’ve somehow managed to arrange themselves into a sprawling tangle of limbs, in a way that seems to work for everyone. And Victor, of course, Victor, sitting nearby, breathing in the fumes of their fucking, watching them like he could eat them alive, the sinuous tangle of skin on skin, pale and gold and tan in the light. Victor is still coming to terms with his new body, he’d commented wryly, but he sure as shit can enjoy the view.

Everyone’s happy, except for Bruce. Bruce lies here with his hand tucked over his cock like he’s protecting it, ridiculously horny and simultaneously terrified, because he’s not like them, hell, he’s just a guy that dresses up like a bat for Christ’s sake and he shouldn’t even be here, he shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ –

It’s too much. Bruce stands, walks away, and if there are calls of his name in Diana’s or Clark’s soft tones, or a bass Atlantean rumble in the distance, he refuses to admit he can hear them. With a little concentration, he can make it like he was never there at all.


End file.
